Fix You
by InOneSimplifiedMotion
Summary: After Castiel's death. Switches between pov's of Sam, Dean, and Castiel.Lots of Destiel feels, don't like, don't read.
1. Chapter 1

Something wasn't right.

As clueless as Castiel was to human emotions, even he could hear the change in Dean's voice. The hunter was staring at the sky, his face a composed mask, but Castiel wasn't sure what he was hiding. The angel stood beside him, invisible to his pained friend. To him, Castiel was dead, and after all the pain he'd caused, perhaps it was better off that way.

"I know this is stupid," Dean muttered. "You're gone. I don't know what happens to angels when they die, but they probably don't go back to heaven."

Dean was slowly losing his composure, and Castiel wanted nothing more than to show himself and run his fingers through the hunter's short hair, to feel him and let him know he was there. But to do so would be an intense violation.

"So...even though you can't hear me, and it wouldn't even matter if you could, I have to get this off my chest. Cas, what you did...I don't know why you did. I guess you got a little power-hungry, like Sam with the demon blood. Before, I told myself I would never forgive you, but now..." he trailed off, tears shining in his green eyes. "Now I just want you back. I _need_ you back."

At this confession, his voice broke and he stifled a sob into his hand. "You son of a bitch," he chuckled ruefully. "Are you happy now?" he asked, louder than Cas was expecting. "You just get to go off into oblivion and leave me with this crap?"

Unconsiously, the angel shook his head in response.

"I just..." his eyes glazed over, as if he was deep in thought, but he shook himself back to reality. "I feel...empty without you Cas. It's like this huge part of me has been missing ever since you left and I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't think straight anymore. It's like," he paused, considering his words.

"It's like I'm dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam Winchester watched his brother break down on the other side of the passenger side window. Dean had slipped out when Sam started to doze off, but the slamming of the driver's door had brought him back into conciousness.

Something ached in his chest as Dean broke down in sobs, but he was frozen in place. He elder brother would kill him if he turned this into a chick-flick moment, and even though Sam wanted nothing more than to run outside and envelop him in a tight hug, his mind told him no. Let him have this one moment of weakness.

Dean never let his guard down in front of Sam anymore. He'd even gone so far as to put on an apathetic front about everything, claiming nothing really mattered to him anymore. He didn't care. But Sam knew the truth; Dean cared far too much for his own good. All of the pain and the misery and blind rage inside of him had been building up these past few weeks and Sam supposed now was as good a time as any for his brother to snap.

Dean was talking, but Sam couldn't hear him through the thick glass. He strained to make out some words, any words, but all he understood was "Why".

He turned away.

* * *

><p>The rain rolled down his face and pooled on his eyelashes, but Dean numbly blinked them away. He had been staring at the sky for what felt like hours, desperately begging for some sort of sign. What kind, he wasn't sure.<p>

All he knew was he couldn't do this anymore.

Sure, he had Sam, but it wasn't the same. He and Cas had a "profound bond" (he chuckled at the phrase) and judging by the stabbing pain in his, well, everything, that bond had been severed. Dean had always imagined it to be a clean break, something effortless that left him with a feeling of finality. Instead, all he was left with was desolation. The angel was his, and he was the angel's, even if the last few times they were together left a sour taste in his mouth.

If that son-of-a-bitch didn't answer him, he'd start shooting.

He glanced at his hands, only to see how badly they were shaking, but whether it was the rain or his anger he wasn't sure.

The truth was, Dean didn't know how to feel. He was never really good at dealing with death (ironic, since it followed them everywhere), usually opting to shove it back into the recesses of his mind until a night of heavy drinking brought it into his dreams. Sam was always better with the hallmark crap. And he had tried his usual routine of forgetting, if anyone asked. Castiel was out of sight, out of mind. Whenever he had to tell Sam that, it almost felt true.

Dean couldn't enjoy even eat a burger anymore. A single look at one brought back bittersweet memories of Cas stuffing his face with an impossible amount of them, much to Dean's delight and Sam's disgust. Every bite made him want to blow chunks but he fought through it if only to save face in front of his brother. Because Sammy didn't know, couldn't know, how annihilated he really was.

The only things that kept him going anymore were these nightly chats. He used to make lists of what his motivation was to keep doing what he did, no matter the cost, but he had no real need anymore. There was only really one thing. The fact that Sam needed him used to be on those lists, but Dean took that off. Gigantor didn't need him. Not really. As much as Dean hated to admit it, he was a grown man now. He could fight his own battles, protest as he might.

He almost felt obselete.

Did anyone really need him anymore? The apocolypse was averted. Sam was self-sufficent. Lisa had no idea who he was, and he doubted she ever really did more than pity him. A sickening thought crossed his mind: he was the oldest Winchester alive, and he was only 33.

"The hell is wrong with you?" he yelled to the clouds. "You think this is funny? Huh?"

* * *

><p>Next chapter up will be Castiel's point of view :3 Sorry if it's not that good, my skills are a little rusty. I'll get better, I promise.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Casitel had never been rebellious. He had followed orders to the letter, without suspecting any bad intentions. He trusted his superiors.

And then he met Dean.

Dean had convinced him to deny "those bullshit orders", and though it had felt strange at first, Castiel had conceded. His eyes opened, Dean would say, and he saw just how corrupted the hierarchy of Heaven truly was. He tried to fix it through less than savory methods. But was what he did really that bad?

Dean had berated him for working with Crowley, and Castiel wanted to scream about how hypocritical he was being. All the Winchesters did was work with demons, be it making deals or squeezing them for information, and it seemed unfair that he wasn't able to do the same. His intentions were good. Wasn't that all that mattered? He stuggled to remember a human saying Sam had told him once; he thought it was something along the lines of only the thought mattering.

But it had all gotten out of hand. The souls he absorbed turned him into a power hungry monster; he practically became one of the things his friends hunted. In fact, they had tried to hunt him. He let the leviathans escape. He let everything he cared about disintigrate before his eyes and he hadn't even cared. And when that leviathan took over his vessel and left him homeless, Heaven had recognized his efforts and welcomed him back into their ranks, on one distressing condition. He could not reveal himself to the Winchesters. No contact, no subtle messages, and if they so much as suspected he was alive, he would be killed.

So there he stood, staring at the emerald-eyed hunter, trying to extirpate all the emotions that coursed through him. There he stood, trying to forget the tears that rolled down Dean's face even as more appeared.

A thought ran across his mind for a second, but he quickly shrugged it off. He was grateful for the second chance he got, and at least this way he could check on the Winchesters, so it was worth it. Right?

Castiel had never doubted himself more than in this moment.

* * *

><p>"Dean, where are you?" he asked the device, stopping for a breif second to wonder how it worked. Dean's voice quickly gave him an address, and he was there before the phone hung up, but this time he remembered to put it away before greeting the brothers.<p>

They were at a restaurant of sorts, though he wasn't sure what kind. It looked extremely...dirty, and there were angry looking men and girls in skimpy outfits everywhere. Dean must've noticed his confusion, because he piped up from behind Castiel. "It's a bar, Cas."

He turned and there they were, seated at a booth in the corner. Dean was stuffing his face with a burger. After the incident with Famine, the angel was a bit apprehensive around meat, in fear that he might lose control again. It was a silly thought, but it still kept him from stepping closer to the table.

It was as if Dean could read his thoughts once again, and he gestured to the unoccupied space next to him on the booth vinyl. For a moment, Castiel hesitated, trying to look for help in Sam. The younger Winchester avoided his gaze with a stifled smile. "It's better if you don't fight it," he advised him. As much as Castiel opposed sitting in a place that so blatantly disregarded the notion of hygiene, their presence broght him some comfort. He plopped on the seat.

"Yeah!" Dean chuckled victoriously, and Sam shook his head. "Welcome to the dark side."

"I'm afraid I don't understand that reference."

Dean simply shrugged it off, placing his half-eaten burger in front of Castiel. "Eat up," he said. "Don't wait 'till it gets cold. Trust me, it's better fresh."

* * *

><p>Castiel would have given anything to see that smile again in that moment, instead of these tears that only confused him and made his head hurt. A real smile that reached his eyes, not the fake one he'd been putting on so often these last few months.<p>

He just wanted Dean to be happy.


End file.
